A Time Traveller's Guide To Feudal Japan

"F.u.c.k lad, they’re going to attack the eastern camp!"

Nakatane cursed, a little panicked upon seeing them head east. To the west, Matsudaira was camped, and they had heard those men training for the majority of the day. They would be ready to deal with the sudden charge.

But eastwards was a camp under Asahina Yasutomo, one of Imagawa’s retainers. And if they were anything like their Daimyo, the men will have spent most of the day celebrating, and be unarmed now, in the late afternoon.

They had successfully defended their own camp, with the wall of fire. That also happened to be the camp in which Imagawa was stationed, as Nobunaga seemed to know beforehand. That meant that absolute victory was already torn from the man’s grasp. Imagawa, and his 6000 men, would certainly be armed and ready to confront them by the time they returned.

But the problem lay in how to warn the western camp of the imminent threat.

"Even if we go now, we will not make it in time."

He calmy responded, though internally he was complimenting Nobunaga’s quick decision making, and also his luck. Had he simply went left instead of right, he would have met his end via Masaadaira’s muskets.

"I know! But what can we do?"

He was panicking, as were the men. It was a completely unexpected development for them. They had been prepared to stake their lives in defending, but now, with all the chaos that had suddenly sprung up, and the fire that grew progressively larger in its might, they did not know what they had to do. They were disoriented, and that was dangerous.

"We leave it. Instead, we will head to Okabe’s camp, and warn them."

It was the closest of the four camps to Asahina’s, and so it was likely that Oda would head there first, for Oda’s objective was clear: kill as many enemies as possible whilst they still hold the element of surprise.

Nakatane blinked. It was an extremely cold decision to make, but he knew it to be the correct one. There was no chance that they would be able to make it in time. The horses were far faster than they were. And so, it would be far more effective – and have a far higher chance of success – if they went straight to Okabe’s.

The camp lay northeast of Asahina’s, so it was actually rather close to Imagawa’s, but was inaccessible directly due to the blaze.

And so they ran. With that decision, they were effectively leaving 8000 men to die. It was a decision more based on reason than morality, and so was one that few people would dare to make.

The pandemonium that had been orchestrated with the help of the fire was of a scale that even Gengyo could not predict. Despite the intense rainfall, the scorching flames consumed the woodland avidly, and spread to other parts of the forest at a terrifying pace.

It was likely that by now, other camps had seen the flames – and had they not, it should be considered rather shameful – but still the commanders likely would not judge it to be enough to mobilize all their forces for deployment.

The heat of the flames was intense, and the smoke was harsh on their eyes and lungs. They were glad to be able to part from it when the stream meandered and they were able to jump over it, heading closer towards Okabe’s camp, led by their young strategist.

The Special Forces members had disregarded their bows – there had not been time to retrieve them, and time was most certainly of the essence. They merely held their spears, and their swords swung at their waists.

Luckily, the distance to Okabe’s camp was short, and they were able to sprint it without growing too tired. Before they even arrived, they begun shouting out, warning the celebrating men of the great danger they were in.

"WE’RE UNDER ATTACK! INFORM THE COMMANDER OF ENEMY FORCES!"

They shouted, barely catching the attention of the drunken rabble.

Soon they burst into camp, and the men were forced to pay them mind. Even in their drunken stupor, they could tell that these men were deadly serious, and the news they carried was believed to be true. They scrambled about madly, doing all they could to prepare before the inevitable attack.

Men of higher ranks overheard, and moved towards Okabe’s tent to warn him. A few minutes later, the man arrived, though still unarmed, and not in the least ready to deliver orders. When he caught sight of the fully armoured Niwa men, and his men who was in a frenzy to arm themselves, he finally began to pay more attention, realizing that this was far more serious than it first appeared.

Action was being taken, but it was far too slow for Gengyo’s liking, and he bit his lips nervously, frustrated that there was nothing he could do except wait.

Elsewhere, Oda continued causing carnage. His infantry units joined the fray, and the complete annihilation of the eastern encampment drew near.

The men set fire to tents as they went, and killed anyone within range. Nobunaga’s sword arm ached from the amount of strikes he had delivered, yet his heart bore no weight for the amount of lives that he had claimed. In his eyes, this was still far from enough.

A mere eight thousand. And they were being dealt with so slowly. This was not the way the plan was meant to go. They were meant to have all the time they needed to eradicate one camp, before moving onto the next.

But because of that fire, because of that traitor, and because of that man in black who had caught sight of him, he knew that Imagawa and his camp would already be near-completed in arming themselves, and would very soon engage in a hunt for his blood.

It was a race, in his mind, whoever could reach the encampment first. He betted only his himself.

SPURT

A spear drove into the side of his mare, causing the poor beast to rear, throwing him from the saddle, before collopasing to the floor herself. Oda landed hard upon his bottom, though was able to get to his feet just in time to see the man who had dared to dismount him have his head struck from his shoulders.

"Daimyo-sama! Are you alright?"

One of his closest guardsmen called down to him, before dismounting from his horse, and offering to help Nobunaga on top of it. But his Daimyo waved his concerns aside. The large tent of the encampment’s commander was just ahead – he would have to dismount in a few moments time anyway.

He stepped across the bodies – that littered the path to the white tent – without a hint of distaste. His focus was single-minded. He cared not for the small inconveniences and discomforts that threatened to come his way.

The majority of the corpses wore nothing but a kimono, and very few died with a weapon in hand. They were caught well and truly off guard, which in itself, was pitiful.

He felt anger towards the commander on their behalf. Where was he, when he heard their screams and shouts? Why was he not present upon the field of battle, even if it was simply to see himself and his men to the grave? There was no excuse for such cowardice, and before his pulled back the flap to the white tent, he reaffirmed to himself that he would show no mercy.

Yet inside was not the sight he had expected to see. He had imagined a man, half-n.a.k.e.d, kneeling down on the floor, weeping in fear as he begged for forgiveness. But in here he saw an old man engaged in rather passionate lovemaking to a girl who was less than a quarter his age.

She m.o.a.ned loudly, eyes half-closed, as he went about his work like a rabbit. It was only when he shoved his sword through the exposed back of the old man that either of them noticed his presence. He gasped, and stopped in the middle of his next thrust, face contorted with pain and confusion, as he turned his head round to meet the gaze of his killer.

It was only when she felt his warm blood dripping upon the soft flesh of her belly, did she open her eyes, and realize that the man who she had spent the past three years offering her body to was dead.

She screamed, seeing Nobunaga’s bloody visage, and the cold steel of his blade poking out through the dead commander’s chest.

He, in turn, simply regarded her with a cold stare, as he withdrew his weapon, and turned to leave. He held not grievances toward the women of the Imagawa clan, but nor would he stoop low to offer them comfort.

He exited the tent, and found a horse waiting for him to mount it, and his men were waiting loyally beside it, eager to hear his next command. He gave them not words, for they needed none. He instead leapt up onto the back of the pure white stallion, and clasped the reigns firmly, before spurring him onward, targeting the camp he knew to be nearest to here.

Dismayed by the camp member’s sluggishness, Gengyo forced them to become faster.

"ALL WHO ARE ABLE, FOLLOW ME BACK TO IMAGAWA’S CAMP."

He led his men over, waiting for the rest to join them. Initially, he had thought they might be able to hold the encampment themselves, but too few of the men were armed and ready, and he knew Nobunaga might charge through at any second. If they were caught out then he would be putting his own men’s lives at risk, and that was something he judged not to be worth it.

They sprinted back through the forest, a bulk of men following behind them. Some were only half-dressed, and shoeless, calling out in pain as they impaled the soft flesh of their feet on a rather sharp stick or stone.

Others were either less drunk or more disciplined, and hurtled after them fully armed, ready to do battle.

The fear they felt at seeing so many leave spurred the others onwards, urging them to move faster and catch up to the pack. If they were caught running when Oda attacked, then they would be cut to pieces, and any man with more than half a brain in his skull was well aware of it.

Okabe galloped on ahead with his guard, having quickly mounted and abandoned the camp.

Gengyo wanted to curse at his cowardice, but he had held doubts about the man from the start, and feared something like this would be done. It simply made him grateful that he made the choice he did, and left that dreaded camp behind.

The stream that they had leapt over so easily earlier proved to be some kind of pitfall for those that followed behind them, as many fell in, caught unawares, injuring themselves.

They soon caught sight of the blazing inferno, and struggled to steer clear of it. It had almost doubled in width since they had left it, and was still intent on expanding. The heat quickly dried the bark of the trees - which were only sodden on the surface, as the days before had been dry – and the fire lapped the dry wood with a vicarious appetite.

The way things were going, the entire forest was liable to burn down. It was an environmentalists nightmare, but it was a necessary step in thwarting Oda’s surprise attack, and stopping the complete defeat of the Imagawa forces before they had even properly begun their campaign.

//Author’s Note

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